


The Apprentice

by Esequel



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:27:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8350888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esequel/pseuds/Esequel
Summary: When Hella comes to Kattegat trailing a gifted orphan, the old Seer is finally granted a vision of his own future, but happiness comes at great cost. It's his blood, or hers. The Seer/OC Romance/Drama





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N -This is just a short tale that's been playing on my mind since I watched Vikings.
> 
> I think I'm actually the only person to have written a romance fanfic about the Seer. I think he's a very underestimated man. For somebody who's clearly been mutilated and is extremely ugly, scary and moody, he's also confident, self assured and he doesn't take shit off anybody. He's not up himself or pretentious either, and throughout the seasons he laughs easily and demonstrates a keen intelligence and wisdom. I think he's the sort of man who's seen it all, which makes him interesting. So based on that perception, this story was born.
> 
> Enjoy. And remember...even the wrinklies need love ;)

**Chapter 1**

Walking into a new town always caused Hella extreme anxiety. Her hands trembled uncontrollably because people were staring. She didn't want Eerika to notice her fear and be upset. The little girl was gripping Hella's hand so tightly that her fingers were nearly numb. Hella's stomach rolled, acidic, hot and empty. They wandered past a market stall draped in an embroidered green cloth, which suggested that Kattegat had some decent wealth. When Hella smelled the fresh bread, her stomach grumbled like the warning of an earthquake. She'd given the last of their dried supplies to Eerika the night before and her body was empty. She could feel the strength bleeding out of her feet.

Already the sun was getting low. Hella knew it would be a long night for them if they couldn't find shelter.

'It's cold,' Eerika said. 'Where will we sleep?'

'Don't worry so much,' Hella smiled at her, though she knew her eye was twitching the way it did when she lied. 'We'll find somewhere soon.'

'Like last time,' Eerika commented doubtfully, one eyebrow arched. She'd learned the gesture off a dry old man in the last town they'd been evicted from and Hella didn't like the way it twisted Eerika's face and made her look older than her six years. It was actually Eerika's fault that they had nowhere to live. She'd told the landlord his sins. Hella was still trying to force herself to forgive the girl because she couldn't control her gift. But she also insisted on telling people what she saw, even though she knew the trouble Hella faced because of it.

'They're staring at me,' Eerika complained, her dark curls brushing Hella's wrist. Hella had walked into five new towns in one year. Every time the locals gawked at her. It never got any easier to bear.

'Ignore them. They're just being nosy.'

In truth it made Hella nervous. She was a small girl, and Eerika was even smaller. The town was full of big, bearded fighting men and Hella knew very well what many of them wanted. It made her anxious.

Eerika's sloe-eyed gaze turned on a teenage girl who was herding pigs along the roadside. Inexorably, Eerika raised her left hand and pointed with a single, offensive little finger, her eyelids flickering strangely as they did whenever she read people's secrets.

'That one shares a bed with her brothers. Sometimes she had sex with them.'

'Eerika!' Hella grabbed the accusing finger as the farm girl spun to stare daggers at them. 'You can't say those things aloud!'

'But it's true!' Eerika shook Hella by the neck angrily. 'Why don't you _believe_ me!'

'I _do_ believe in your gifts, Eerika,' Hella said quickly, all too aware of how angry and spiteful Eerika could get if she felt wronged. Hella already had bruises to prove it. Just last month the girl had kicked a cat for biting her and the next morning, Hella had found it dead. Hella hated that tendency in Eerika, but the girl was stubborn, so she tried to be diplomatic; 'People don't want their secrets spilled in front of everyone. We've just come a new place. We want them to like us, don't we? Don't you want to stay this time?' Hella tried desperately.

Eric surveyed the villagers with her dark, quiet intelligence.

'Don't know.'

'OK, well...while you make up your mind...just try not to say what you see out loud. OK? Why don't you just whisper it to me instead?'

Eerika shrugged her skinny shoulders, playing with a lock of Hella's hair, apparently placated for now.

As they walked past an open shop window with its hanging, painted sign where a huge, fluffy hound the size of a small pony lolled, Hella smelled pork roasting. Her stomach gave another minor quake. Hella wondered at the answer to Eerika's question. Where _would_ they sleep tonight? Maybe they'd find a barn. Anxiety crept up on Hella again, crushing the last desperate pieces of the childhood self she hid away inside. She'd have to find work, if there was any. It would probably mean being someone's servant again.

'I'm hungry,' Eerika demanded.

'I know. So am I.'

'It's getting dark,' Eerika whispered.

They'd found a place to sit on the grassy bank where a stream cut through the town. Hella watched the marketplace shut down. Hella wouldn't beg, not even for the scraps they threw to the pigs. She'd never get anywhere in this town if they thought she was a vagrant. The thought of another long, cold night ahead put a lead stone in her belly. They'd slept under the stars every night for a month on the road, then been robbed the night before they arrived by three men, who'd taken the only fur they had between them. Hella felt sure that the only reason she and Eerika hadn't been raped and killed was that Eerika told them their future, and it was a good future.

'It's cold here,' Eerika said pointedly. Hella suppressed the urge to tell the girl that she knew very well how cold it was and how much colder they were going to get. Home was still a fixture in the little girl's world, where slaves dressed her every morning and her Mother and Father indulged her every whim. It wasn't like that any more. Hella knew the past was dead, but Eerika wasn't old enough to understand that. Helpless and frustrated as Hella sometimes felt, she couldn't bring herself to shatter all the girls illusions just yet.

Thick skirts rustled by. Hella looked up to see an old lady in a thick shawl. Her eyes were as foggy as a Winter morning. If she wasn't blind, she was close to it.

'Old woman!' Hella stopped her. 'I have no home...do you know where I can find work?'

'You beggars?'

'No!' Hella said quickly. 'We just arrived in Kattegat. I just need a job.'

Eerika shivered, pressing close to Hella's ribs, wrapping her hands in the older girl's shawl. Eerika never said it, but Hella was sure she thought of her as a Mother, even though there were only ten years between them. Hella wasn't ready to be a Mother. She'd never really wanted to be. But when she'd found Eerika at the roadside, crying for her Mother, she'd realised there were choices in life that had to be made. So she'd bought the girl with her. They were both alone, and it made sense.

'Might be they have an opening at the docks...maybe some fish need gutting,' the old woman said. ''Orrible job, that, but they pays the women that does it. Ask in the morning.'

'Thank you.'

'Might be I need someone to help me chop these up,' the old lady held up a bunch of carrots. 'Can't see where my fingers go, see? Chopped the end of my pinky finger,' she held up her hand to show them. Hella's stomach rumbled to think of carrots, and Eerika gasped in horror at the stump. 'You come and cook them for me, you can share my hearth and supper.'

Hella pulled Eerika onto her hip quicker than lightning seeks to touch the ground.

'We'll gladly help you, right Eerika?'

Eerika, who'd spied food, nodded in absolute silence, her lips pressed together. She looked innocent when she did that, but Hella knew she only did it when she wanted to keep her incisive observations inside. Hella followed the shuffling old lady through the gathering dark.

Hella smiled at her and whispered; 'See? We've been lucky, haven't we?'

Eerika nodded.

'Come on, you,' Hella let the little girl slide down her body to the floor and took her hand. 'You can walk yourself now, and you're getting too big to carry.'

'I don't want to be big.'

'I know, but my back hurts. Just this once you can walk a bit.'

Hella sensed Eerika's frustration. She didn't like to be told NO, but the truth was, her bare feet were blistered so badly that the extra weight really hurt. Then Eerika ran headlong into a dark figure who was crossing their path, carrying a long stick topped with a skull and feathers. The man made an ungainly sound of surprise and tripped on the hem of his robe. As he caught himself with a sudden and surprisingly accurate jab of his stick into the corner angle of a horse trough, Eerika sprawled on her back, face already cracking into tears.

The old man turned like a black tide to reveal a badly mutilated skull under the overhanging hood of a full-length cowl. He looked like his eyes had been gouged out and the skin sliced and stitched over the sockets. Eerika screamed, scrambling away to hide behind Hella, who managed to hold her ground as he approached. Her breath froze in her chest as he thumped the ground just short of her toes with his stick.

'Watch where you walk!' He snapped, his tone like an oncoming storm.

He was taller than anyone Hella had ever seen, but she sensed with the long experience of someone smaller than everyone else around, that for all he was fierce and angry, he wouldn't hurt them this time.

'I'm so sorry,' she managed to quell the natural fear of such a terrible face, reminding herself that under the scars was just a man. Judging by his black-stained lips, he was obviously the town's resident Seer, but Hella had never seen a man in that position before. Seers were usually women. She pushed her observations aside. 'Are you hurt? Forgive her...she's just a child and I don't think she's ever seen...someone like you.'

The old Seer turned his eyeless skull towards Eerika, who tugged so hard on Hella's skirt that it almost fell down. Hella had lost all her excess weight on their journey. The last time she'd caught sight of herself in a still puddle, she was horrified that she looked like an undernourished skeleton with an overabundance of red hair.

A torch mounted on the wall of a nearby house revealed the ridges and pits of his mutilation, all the more grotesque in the flickering light, but Hella noticed that the lower part of his face was untouched, like his full, bow-lips and smooth throat. His bare collarbones were covered in a tattoo. It looked like feathers, but she couldn't quite make out the details.

'Make him go away!' Eerika wept into Hella's skirt.

'Eerika!' Hella pleaded, touching the girl's curly hair. 'Be quiet...and be polite. He's a holy man.'

'I _see_ you,' he bent to look at her closely. Hella shivered. His voice had gone softer, undercutting all other noise like gentle thunder. Hella's skin sensitized. The air between them crackled with unspent energy. 'And I see this is not your child. You are.. _.innocence_...in the grip of a darkness you fail to see.'

Hella rubbed the little girl's hair reassuringly.

'I think your sight has failed you this time, Wise One,' she said quietly. 'Because it's the other way around, in this case.'

His black lips twitched like he might smile, but the expression died suddenly. Hella bent to catch his wrist. She turned it over, surprised to see that his hands weren't wrinkled like an old man, just weathered.

'We apologise...for your injury.'

'I was not injured.'

'At any rate,' Hella said softly, licking his palm. He smiled, then bowed his head slightly in acceptance.

'Come and see me tomorrow,' he said, stepping back. Hella felt Eerika relax. 'We must...talk.'

The old lady turned at her front door, the carrots bunched in her papery fingers.

'Goodnight, old man,' she said lightly. 'Enjoy your indulgence.'

'And to you, Helga,' he replied, facing into the dark.

'Indulgence?' Hella asked, relenting and scooping up Eerika, cupping her skull.

'Ah, the odd cup of ale. Good for the heart and brain, though since he's dead...I can't think as it matters,' Helga opened up her home and let them in. 'Come on in, girls, for Freya's sake! Put the wood back in the hole!'

Hella smiled into Eerika's hair. Her Mother used to say that when visitors left the door open too long and let in the cold.

With her belly full from the soup and a hunk of bread Helga had given her, Hella felt closer to restful sleep than she had in weeks. Eerika was already gone, her mouth open, catching flies, eyelids flickering in the land of dreams. Hella hoped they were good ones this time. She needed a good night's sleep herself, not Eerika cheekily asking her to tell story after story until the wee hours.

'What happened to the Seer's eyes? I've seen Seers before...but they were all women.'

'Noone knows,' Helga said, the smoke from her tobacco pipe curling up under the eaves. It reminded Hella of her Father, but that was a long time ago. So long that it was silly to be upset about it now, but she couldn't help the sadness that coiled under her breastbone. They were all gone now. Even if she went back to her village, nothing would be the same.

'She's not yours, is she?' Helga asked.

'She lost her family to a great fire. I lost mine to marauders. We have more in common that a lot of sisters but no...we're not related. She's mine now anyway. I take care of her.'

'A heavy burden, you bear.'

'Sometimes,' Hella agreed, very quietly, in case Eerika had awoken. Hella didn't want the girl to think she was a burden, but the truth was, sometimes it _felt_ that way.

**000 **

Light filtered through Hella's closed lids, staining her internal world peach. She could feel Eerika's warmth pressed to her back. Helga was asleep beside them, facing away. During the night, the old woman let out protracted farts that wafted up from the sheets like the choking hand of death.

Hella's stomach had long since emptied of their evening meal. In the presence of sufficient food the night before, her body suddenly became insistent, demanding as much as humanly possible to eat. Before Helga or Eerika woke, Hella wandered down to the shoreline where a skinny man with a grey beard was reeling in nets. A woman sat there on an upturned pot, passing a wooden needle in and out of them, fixing holes. She had the biggest chest Hella had ever seen.

'I need work,' she told the man. 'Do you know any I could do?'

He pointed silently to a broad-chested man with beads in his beard who was gutting fish, pulling out stringy, bulbous organs and tossing them into a bucket. He looked unhappy with his job. Hella shivered, nervous.

'I need work,' she told him anxiously. 'I have a girl to feed.'

The man pointed a bloody knife point her way and eyed her like a curious parrot.

'Can you gully a fish?' he asked.

'Yes,' she said.

'Can you gully...that _many_ fish?' he pointed to six oak barrels of fresh fish, some still wriggling. Hella nodded. He stuck the knife point down in the pock-marked wooden table he was working on and gestured to her to pick it up, and demonstrate. Hella pulled the knife free, picked up a wriggling fish by the gills and nervously, her hands shaking with worry he might find her work too messy, she gutted the fish and opened the empty cavity, unspoiled by the blade, to show him. He nodded.

'Carry on, then. Three silver pieces at week's end if you make it.'

Hella knew she would. Three silver pieces was a good wage and it wasn't hard to gut fish. Just stinky and foul. No worse than starving.

The man's name was Tamas, which she learned from the big-chested Bridgit who moved her stool closer when his back was turned so that they could talk. Tamas gave Bridgit a look for that, but he said nothing when she continued to work diligently. Tamas came back at midday to inspect Hella's work. Worry squirmed under her breastbone. The market was in full swing, the streets had grown steadily busier. She didn't want to be shamed for sloppy work in front of so many people, but Tamas nodded his approval. Hella sighed out all the tension she'd been storing up and finally began to relax, hope kindling.

At lunch time, Helga and Eerika appeared through the crowd. Eerika flung herself at Hella, who stopped her before she could hug her bloody, stinking apron. Hella smiled at the old woman gratefully.

'I'm so sorry to leave her with you like that. Tamas gave me a job and I couldn't get away.'

'She's been...relatively little trouble,' Helga said with a smile, to which Eerika gave a sneaky little grin that Hella knew all too well. It meant she _had_ been trouble, and Hella felt a surge of gratitude to the old lady for her patience.

'I'll pay you back twice over for what you did for us, Helga, I promise-'

Helga waved her away. 'Don't be ridiculous. But you can always cook me my supper,' she grinned.

'Supper it is, then,' Hella agreed. 'My grown son's are both gone...the old room in the loft needs a good clean. I'll rent it to you cheap, if you cook.'

Hella smiled. She pointed to the beach. 'Eerika. Look, I see children with wooden swords and sticks. Go and play with them.'

When the girl ran off, Hella turned to Helga.

'Thank you.'

Helga smiled. 'I have noone to talk to now except for some senile old Grandfathers who stay behind during raiding season, and that dusty old Ancient One. A little excitement in the bones...it's like new life.'

Hella leaned over and kissed her cheek. 'We've been all over, to so many towns, and noone's ever been as kind as you.'

Helga wandered home, leaving Hella to learn how to fold the mended nets. Hella's hands hurt, her thumbs were blistered from the knife, but the barrels of fresh fish were empty now. A skinny woman who'd only grunted to Hella so far hung them over a beach-front fire to dry.

When the mast shadows touched the shore, Tamas let them go. Eerika came bounding up the beach to see her. Hella picked her up even though her hands and feet hurt. She felt weak from the day without food, though she'd been given drinking water. She was glad to know she'd get more soup tonight, because she didn't think she could work another day without a meal.

'You're going the wrong way,' Eerika said giving her an irritated push as they walked home through the town.

'Eerika, _stop_ doing that,' Hella corrected her. Eerika's habit of expressing herself with force was wearing thin. 'We're going to see the Seer.'

'You can't!' Eerika smacked her hands on Hella's collarbones. Hella put her down.

'Stop hitting me when you want things,' she said, a bit more sharply. No matter how hard she worked or tried, sometimes the girl was plain spoiled. 'If you can't use words first, then I'm not carrying you any more.'

Eerika started to cry, standing in the street like a pathetic vision. It had begun to rain. Hella knelt down, the rain wicking up her dress, wetting her shin, making her shiver. She felt dog tired, her very bones aching. She just wanted to eat and sleep.

'We have to try.'

'I...don't...WANT...to!' Eerika wailed, loudly enough to attract attention. Hella wanted to smack her, but she wasn't sure it'd do any good. Eerika just wasn't old enough to understand. 'He's ugly!' the little girl added.

'Yes. He is. But we need his help. We have to find a future here, Eerika. We can't keep moving from town to town,' _Every time you mess it up_ , she wanted to add, but stopped herself. 'We have to find a home. If we don't, we'll have to sleep outside again. Wet and cold every night. Eerika. I want to live in a house. Not under a tree. Don't you?'

Eerika stamped her foot, raising both her fists for another attack. Hella caught them.

'It's not FAIR!' Eerika screamed.

'Stop it!' Hella finally yelled. 'You're nearly seven now. It's time to stop behaving like a baby. You can't always have everything you want. Sometimes you have to think about others. About me. And how hard I have to work to keep us both safe. About how I always have to carry you because you won't use your own feet,' Hella stood up, guilt warring with her frustration and anger. 'You have to start helping me, Eerika, and soon. I'm not a slave. You have to come in there with me and ask for his help or you're going to be doing favours for men for your dinner for the rest of your life!'

Eerika scrubbed at her eyes, looking blank and broken.

'It means doing very bad things, with very naughty, bad men. People who want to hurt us both. Do you want me to get hurt?'

'N-No,' Eerika finally whispered. _I know_ , Hella thought, _because if I get hurt you'll starve, or die of cold like the other orphan kids. It's not about me, Eerika. It's about you feeling safe, it's always about YOU._ Hella sucked in a deep breath and tried to reign in her anger.

'You've got to try and be brave then,' Hella finally said, diplomatically.

Eerika followed her into the old man's house with her eyes shut tight, gripping the back of her skirt so that Hella had to hold it up to keep her modesty. The girl cried silently until Hella put her on her lap and surreptitiously covered the girls eyes under the guise of stroking her hair. The Ancient One was toying with a the tiny, polished skull of a bird, his dry, smooth fingertips exploring the crevices of its empty sockets. He looked directly at her face. Hella found his attention off-putting, but she didn't let it show. She didn't want to offend him.

'Ahhh,' his black lips stretched into a smile. 'You came to see me.'

'Yes,' Hella agreed. He sat on the edge of a wide bed that clearly doubled as his chair. The house was full of bones and in the corners, Hella could see gifts of food and fabric.

Hella stroked Eerika's hair.

'I see...a farm. And a father five score years...who left you an orphan,' the Seer said.

'Yes,' Hella agreed nervously.

'And I see you have nothing to ask me...about your own future. You are only interested in the girl's.'

'Of the two of us, she has the gifts, not me.'

'Yet you _are_ gifted. You have kept her alive.'

Hella chewed her lip anxiously. Her belly grumbled. He caressed the bird's skull, his head tilted like the original owner, as though he was curious.

'The child...could be trained,' he said after a minute. 'To give prophecies. And insight. Let her use her gifts on me.'

_'No_ , I don't think that'd be appropriate,' Hella said quickly. Eerika was so incisive that she frightened people.

'I say it is,' he insisted, rising from the cot. When he was almost upon them, he reached out to touch Eerika, who gasped in fright. 'Don't be frightened, child.'

'Please-' Hella started, because she knew how terrified Eerika was of his face.

' **Sit** ,' he told Hella sharply. She did as he commanded, nervously fidgeting with the hem of her shawl as he plucked Eerika up, setting her on his hip so easily that Hella began to wonder if he was old at all. He seemed fit and able.

'It's no good feeding fears,' he rumbled. 'Open your eyes.'

Eerika shook her head vehemently, gripping his robe for all she was worth.

'Come now,' he sidled, smiling deviously. 'Open,' he murmured, touching her eyelids.

Eerika stiffened and Hella held her breath, certain the girl was going to scream and cry, and hit him like she had started doing with Hella. But Eerika opened her eyes suddenly and looked up. His black lips tilted up triumphantly as Eerika chewed her lip, then finally she smiled. Hella felt a surge of pride. Eerika had always been so brave and adaptable.

'Tell me what you see,' the old man encouraged.

Eerika touched the ring he wore at his collarbones, then investigated his hood. She smiled, cheeky and dark.

'There's a girl. You lie down with her. There,' Eerika pointed to the bed. 'Your face scares her, but she likes it anyway. You pay her.'

He grinned widely. 'You are very...perceptive. Go on.'

Eerika giggled.

'Why does she call you Papa?'

'That's a very...grown up game...and an answer for another time.'

Hella flushed so red her hairline tingled. Just like Eerika, to fish out a man's sins so plainly, all the more disturbing through the mouth of a child.

'Your children are all dead,' Eerika said suddenly.

His lips twitched, his smile fading. Hella stiffened in surprise.

'My children were taken from me,' he agreed. 'By bad men. Men who envied me my Sight.'

Eerika fidgeted with her hands. 'They...cut you,' she said, staring at his face. Hella had to force herself not to surge from the chair and take the girl back. 'They...peeled the skin off your back and stitched it to your face.'

'They were jealous that the Gods chose me, to be their messenger.'

Eerika's lip wobbled in worry. 'They're...hanging. Red. Like the rabbits before we cook them.'

Hella felt sick.

'They raped...and mangled my daughters. They cut my wife's throat. You _know_. You have _seen_ it.'

'Stop this, please-' Hella jumped up.

' **You** don't have a say in this!' he snapped at Hella, his voice a whip-crack.

Hella took Eerika from his arms, ignoring his tone.

'She's just a _child_ , you can't say those things to her!'

'It makes no difference what I _say_. She has Seen it!' He leaned in, his face close to Hella's. 'She has lived it, as though she were there. You must take her to the temple where they will teach her to control her gift. Or it will overcome her, and before three Winters pass, you will put her in the ground. If she does not put YOU there first.'

Hella went cold like a Winter midnight. She knew Eerika had problems. Sometimes the girl got so angry noone could control her. But Eerika wasn't like that deep down. Hella was sure of it.

'They screamed,' Eerika whispered, smiling softly as she grabbed Hella's hair. Hella backed towards the door.

'You must take her to the temple!' he called across the room. 'Her gift is also a curse-'

'No,' Hella yelled.

'You would be a fool not to heed me,' he promised.

'I don't care. I won't take her there. They sacrifice men and women alike and torment their followers with starvation and pain. I can't.'

'Wait!' he yelled, but Hella was already gone, fleeing up the hill to Helga's hearth and home, the back of her neck freezing cold with fear.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

The ale was sweet and he could taste the charcoal he used to stain his lips. The tabletop was sticky from spilled drink and with his sensitive fingertips he mapped the knots and whorls in the wood, making a mental map that substituted sight when the Gods refused to feed him visions of the world around him. Suddenly, the familiar light of oncoming prophecy tingled through his balls, then shot up his spine to pierce his brain from the underside of his skull. A jolt of excitement flashed through him. He knew this prophecy would be special. This one was about HIM. _His_ future. The Gods had always refused to tell him his own future.

All at once, Inghard found himself inside the vision. The hearth crackled behind the girl, shining through the autumn waves of her hair, the colour of fiery leaves on soil. He recognised his own home and smelled a stew cooking by the familiar use of rosemary and thyme. His heart filled unexpectedly with love he hadn't even learned to feel yet. For a few seconds, he stood panting and shocked, his hand clasped over the tattoo of the raven on his chest. He felt like he'd died and been taken away from all this blood and pain, all this _responsibility_. He was in Valhalla, and he was there with the one person who really mattered.

It wasn't an eternity of fighting, drinking and whoring Inghard wanted. It was what he'd lost all those years ago in the farmhouse, where his wife and daughters hung bleeding from the rafters, their screams still etched into his memory. He'd never forget it. It had taken him years to forgive the Gods, even after they took his eyes. It had been even longer before he agreed to tell the fortunes of others. He'd refused them countless times, travelling around for a full lifetime as a blind beggar before he finally relented.

Now he found the same feeling he'd enjoyed with his beloved wife in the smooth, youthful skin of Hella's throat. In the mundane way she chopped carrots, each beat of the blade on the cutting board a bit off, a staccato sound that both irritated and comforted him in its familiarity. She made food absently while she was dreaming about other things. He wondered if he could pick her dreams out of her, if he could _See_ what she wanted and check she still loved him. She sat haloed in white light. It made him want to break her skin to look inside, searching for the pantheon he felt sure would be waiting in there with open arms. He was hungry for that day, the day of his death, but he was hungrier still for this love. For the warmth in his belly, the long lost feeling of trust and passion that had been ripped away the day his family died.

Then the vision began to slip and fail. Her hair dulled. Her smile faded. He was pushed back into the present, where drunken men brawled and yelled curses that offended his ears. A lance of grief went through his heart; pain for a future that hadn't even come yet.

But he also knew what he had to do.

**000 **

Standing knee deep in the sea, Hella reeled in the nets. Two months has passed. Hella had gained a bit of the weight she'd lost back, and this month, she'd finally had her blood again. Maybe it was because she was eating well. It had made her happy. Her arms no longer ached as she dragged the heavy nets to shore. She'd grown strong and become used to the work, which she looked forward to every day. She kept time by the boats, by when it was time to dry the fish, then fold the nets, then stock the boats with bait. Hella was finally living free, though Eerika had grown even wilder than before and Hella worried constantly that the local children were having a bad effect on her.

Hella knew something had to be done about Eerika's deteriorating behaviour. She just wasn't sure what. As she passed the net to Bridgit, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up on end. Hella knew she was being watched. She turned to the shoreline. The Seer was standing there.

'I want you to walk with me,' he said.

Hella shook her head. Her hair was bound up with a greying scarf. A few red wisps had come loose to irritate her nose and eyes. She pushed them back, noticing not for the first time how dry and cracked her hands had become. How _weathered._

'I cant.'

He didn't move. He was a towering shadow on the sand, blotting out all light.

'You should go,' Bridgit whispered.

Elsa, who had been cleaning the blades in the water, came up the beach, watching the old man nervously, her Winter-blue eyes flicking between he and Hella.

'It would be bad luck not to,' she said.

'He's only a man,' Hella said to them quietly. 'Not a God.'

The Seer cleared his throat. Hella scratched at her forehead, where her head was sweating and dampening her hair. She wanted to wash in the sea with the other women, towel dry on the sand and then take Eerika to the tavern for ginger beer. She'd have an ale with Helga and laugh about the young men, as though she was already old. She turned seventeen next month, and she felt like she'd already lived her life.

'Go,' Tamas said, gesturing them all away for the day nervously, as though to cross the Seer would be the most heinous crime.

Hella brushed past the old man, remembering that Eerika had taken to playing in the abandoned cove.

'Wait,' he commanded her.

'I have to fetch Eerika. She's probably in the caves again.'

'Then I will walk with you,' he announced, leaning on his stick. 'And we can...talk...about the business at hand.'

Hella didn't see the point in arguing. The Seer was a stubborn old goat. They followed the bay around until they came to a well-worn cove, sheltered from the elements and from sight of passing longboats where the children played. The Seer's robe fluttered into Hella's legs. The scarf she'd taken off her brow to let her hair dry flicked in the wind like a snake's forked tongue. The horizon was huge and blue, but the sea wind was cold. Winter was coming. She could smell the salt and seaweed, and the oncoming freeze.

'It's time,' he said ominously. 'I warned you, did I not? I have seen it. You must take her, no matter how _you_ feel about it.'

'No,' Hella said stiffly. 'And you can't make me. She's just a little girl.'

'She is a Seer. Would you prefer death?' he asked moodily.

'Don't ask me that,' Hella said. 'You know I wouldn't.'

'I believe...you are her Mother, young as you are. But Eerika needs the one thing you cannot give. Let me take her to the temple at Uppsala before the first snow comes.'

Hella laughed, winding her scarf around her hands uncomfortably.

'An old blind man and a little girl, on the road to Uppsala? You must think I'm mad.'

'Come _with_ us then,' he added, irritated.

Hella looked at him darkly. 'They think you're a holy man, but Eerika picked sins out of you easily enough. All men are fallible. Even you. You're wrong about Eerika.'

His lips split into a sudden smile, then he laughed.

'Do you think because I speak for the Gods...I'm forbidden the pleasures...of the flesh?'

Hella's skin flushed, her face suddenly hot. She fidgeted, uncomfortable. His shoulders shook with mirth.

'Even the Gods have sex,' he said, delighting in every word, his teeth bared like a wolf.

'That's too much information,' she told him. 'And in any case it makes no difference. It proves what I know already. You're only human. Humans can be wrong.'

He sighed, visibly frustrated. 'I'm not wrong,' he insisted.

Hella shielded her eyes from the sun, searching the beach-front caverns for signs of the girl. Then small shapes emerged from the dark, swinging wooden swords and shouting curses. Hella recognised Eerika's shouts and heard her say words that Hella herself would be disgusted to speak aloud. Furious, Hella started across the boggy sands.

'Not so fast!' he snapped behind her, but Hella was already gone, picking her way over rocks and seaweed. She ran to catch Eerika before she could disappear into nooks and crannies in the cave where Hella couldn't fit. The girl was becoming a wild animal.

'Eerika!' Hella yelled. Eerika swung around in shock. Without thinking enough about it, Hella smacked her bare legs. 'I told you! The caves are bloody dangerous, and you know I can't come for you when I'm at work. How can you be so stupid! You could die in there!'

Eerika's dark eyes filled with fury.

'You're NOT my Mother!' she screamed, swinging the wooden sword. Hella was tired, so weary from hauling the nets that she reacted too slowly. The sword clocked her on the skull, then Eerika went for a second blow, her face twisted in fury.

**'Enough!'** the old man snapped, knocking the sword aside with his stick. It hit the wet sand. Eerika's black eyes radiated anger like a fire gives out light.

Hella felt hot blood trickle down her face. When she pulled her hand away, it was red. Hella started to tremble at the sight, suddenly dizzy. She pressed her dirty scarf to the cut.

Hella winced internally as the familiar feeling rose again. She'd failed with Eerika, so utterly and completely. She'd tried to care for the girl, but Eerika didn't want it. She wanted to run wild like a wolf. Something steely rose under her breastbone, something made a far harder stuff than bone. Hella grabbed Eerika by the back of the neck and shoved her down on the sand, then as the other kids emerged to gather round, Hella smacked her on the arse three times, hard enough to bruise, until Eerika stopped yelling in anger and started crying.

'I told you,' the old man said as they stood, sat and wept on the sand. 'The time has come.'

Hella felt her throat tighten and she couldn't help but cry. The kids giggled at her, kneeling wet and exhausted in the sand.

'GO HOME!' Hella screamed at them.

Wisely, the kids ran, and Hella started to feel like a monster. Once her tears had started, she couldn't stop. The salt water sicked up her dress. Suddenly she was crying so hard that it was difficult to breathe. Then small, warm arms covered in sand wrapped around her neck.

'I'm sorry,' Eerika whispered.

Hella hugged the girl and staggered to her feet, afraid that if she didn't get up now, she never would. She could hardly see for her tears. She carried Eerika home, not stopping to see if the old man was following. Deep down she knew he was right. The time _had_ come. Hella couldn't take care of Eerika any more, and if she stayed here, she was going to get herself killed.

**000 **

Eerika drew shapes in the dust with a twig while they waited on the high road, wearing winter cloaks. There was a salty tang on the wind, which was cool enough to demand the use of an extra layer. The trees rustled and Hella had the dark feeling that she'd remember doing this to Eerika forever. The girl would never forgive her.

Then the old man appeared on the road, walking steadily up the bank with his stick. He didn't seem to be out of breath much, and not for the first time Hella wondered if there was something strange and otherworldly about him. He drew up close enough to be heard, his cloak so dark even in daylight that he seemed to vacuum in sunshine and give out only blackness.

'This is most unwise,' he advised her, referring, she assumed, to her presence. Hella put her hand on the top of Eerika's head.

'I'm coming,' she said stubbornly. 'Nothing you say will stop me.'

'Where are we going?' Eerika asked.

'To see the order of Seers who...employ me,' the old man agreed, half a truth if ever Hella had heard one.

'How far is it?' Eerika sounded bored already.

'Three days walk. Come then. If you're both...decided.'

Hella didn't answer him. Tamas had given her the time to go with them, and she wouldn't trust the old man and Eerika alone on the road. He might be fitter and stronger than she'd anticipated, but she was willing to bet a week's silver that he couldn't swing an axe. Working on the boats had made her strong. She'd borrowed one of the dock axes and wore it on her belt.

Hella trailed behind them tiredly, her feet scuffing the woodland path. Eerika dragged her feet too and complain about her blisters. The Seer slung his stick over his shoulders and lifted her off the floor, chuckling as she squealed in delight. Hella touched the axe at her side. She hadn't had a lot of practise with it, but its presence comforted her anyway. The open countryside was beautiful now, the mountains coming into view, but when dark came, she knew she was going to be afraid. Eerika was blissfully unaware of potential dangers, as usual. Hella envied her. She was always so confident about everything. And hard too, with a heart like a weighty little stone. Maybe it was the folly of youth.

'We have to make camp,' Hella said as the sun began its slow motion descent into the earth. They'd scaled the rocky hillside and they sat under a copse of rustling trees gazing at the thousand foot drop to the sea. Hella went searching for wood as Eerika flopped down on her wax cloak and complained about how tired she was. Hella was just grateful she'd walked this time and not asked to be carried. The old man was rubbing his shoulder when she got back. Hella was dog-tired, so weary that her spine ached. She didn't know how she'd walk tomorrow. The blisters on her feet were raw and bleeding.

'Go and find something to drink,' the old man said, titling his face towards her as though he could see her through his eyeless skull. She always found that disconcerting. 'I don't suppose the Gods will favour us with a spring...full of ale.'

'You'll be lucky,' Hella laughed.

'I'm old. I've seen many things.'

'Have you ever seen a banquet in the woods laid on by the fairies?' she mocked him lightly.

'No. But I live in hope.'

Hella took the flint off him.

'Oh come on. How can you see to do this?'

He took it back. 'I told you. I see what the Gods want me to see.'

'Fine. You fight with the fire. I'll go and find you some ale. Would you liked a few stuffed mice and a leg of pork too?'

'I would not mind.'

Eerika giggled at them.

The old man grinned at the girl toothily. Hella wandered towards the sound of running water with a couple of water skins to fill them. _Dumb old goat_ , she thought, visualising him trying to find his way around with his stick like the blind beggars she'd seen before. How did he manage to avoid trees and rocks with no eyes? She'd begun to wonder. Yet she'd never seen him stumble once, except that time Eerika ran into him. When Hella came back, the fire was crackling merrily and Eerika was sitting cross legged beside the old man, gazing at the claw ornament he usually wore around his neck, which he'd given her to play with.

'What happened next?' Eerika bounced, the tail-off of some conversation Hella wasn't privy to.

'I grabbed his tongue in my hand and tore it from his skull. I took his teeth, his claws...and his skin for a coat. And ate what I could fit in my belly. The wolves ate well. But then again, so did I.'

'He killed a bear,' Eerika bounced over to Hella holding the claws up to show her. Hella put a water skin in the old man's hand and sat by the fire, Eerika on her lap. 'I want to kill a bear too.'

'Maybe when you're older,' Hella smiled over the top of Eerika's head, watching the old man curiously. He regarded her with his eyeless attention as though he was used to being stared at. Again she sensed that he could see her, or at least, that he mapped his world with some otherwordly ability that included supernatural sight.

As the fire crackled, Eerika fell asleep and the bear claws slipped from her hand. Hella put Eerika under the fur and took the claw back to its owner. He was already asleep, his bare, white skull on a log. Hella put the claws on his belly and crouched there, watching him like she expected him to do something miraculous in his sleep.

'Why are you watching me?' he murmured, turning his face to her suddenly.

Hella jumped hard, her heart in her throat.

'Sorry,' she said, getting up quickly.

As she went to lie down beside Eerika, he rolled over to face the woods and said quietly; 'Curiosity can be a dangerous game.'

The woods came alive at night. Hella heard branches snap, leaves disturbed. She huddled under their borrowed fur, her body on edge, sleepless until first light crept over the horizon to chase away her nightmares. Eerika was awake shortly after that. She ran about chasing squirrels. The old Seer rose like a revenant shortly after and embedded his cane in the dirt an inch from Hella's skull. She swore under her breath.

'You sleep like the dead,' he sounded unimpressed. 'Get up.'

'Rich coming from you, old man,' she grunted, turning over. 'I didn't sleep. Not until you woke up. And you snore, by the way. Like a bloody sow in heat.'

His lips twisted. 'Few people dare to be so forthright with me.'

'I'm not afraid of the future,' she sighed, tossing her now loose and messy hair off her face to lie down on a cooler patch of cloak. 'There's nothing there yet to be afraid of.'

'Surprisingly wise of you.'

'Don't be surprised,' Hella teased him. 'I have my moments.'

'I'm sure. _Occasionally.'_

'Are you always this witty in the morning, old man? Because if this is going to be the way of it, I'll sleep further away from you.'

Hella didn't really mean it. He was actually quite funny sometimes. Just annoying this morning. His mouth tilted up on one side.

'Glad you find me so amusing,' she said.

The other side joined in. 'Yes,' he said darkly. 'I do.'

Hella was exhausted. What she wouldn't have given for a good, strong donkey to take her over the mountain. Eerika began the day in good spirits, but by the time they had to start climbing again, she began to moan about her feet, her stomach, then a headache that was suddenly so bad she didn't want to go any further. Then she came tugging at Hella's skirts to be picked up.

Hella struggled over the rocks, Eerika on her back, the little girl's arms tight around her throat. The Seer was already so far ahead that when he turned to look back, surprise registered on his face. Hella felt herself flush. She knew it was stupid. Her own Mother would never have babied her like this, but Eerika was a demanding child and Hella, feeling guilty about what she was about to do, obliged her.

The old man's black lips twisted in disapproval. He turned to the mountain and kept climbing, resolutely ignoring them both until the sun began to sink again. Hella felt like crying. They'd walked all day. She was hungry and so tired, and they were approaching the wooded bank. Uppsala was just visible above, not more than one morning's walk. It was too soon. As they made camp, Hella felt like she'd sunk to the lowest point of her short life. She wanted to tell Eerika their plan, but she knew the girl would probably run off and they'd be lucky to find her again.

That night, Eerika wouldn't drop off. It was as if she sensed something was wrong. Hella wished she would sleep, because the effort of keeping the perceptive girl in the dark was exhausting. Eerika niggled and fretted about pine needles in her hair, and complained about bits of wood and stone in her makeshift bed. She saw one big wood spider with its long, hairy legs and screamed, and wouldn't go back to sleep until Hella checked the whole bed for more. The old man watched all this with the same expression of disapproval as before, and when Eerika finally settled Hella put her head down and went out so fast that the next morning, she woke up to light without realising she'd even gone to sleep. She hadn't even rolled over in the night. She was stiff as an old plank left out over winter, and she ached from head to her blistered toes. Eerika had hogged the furs. A chill was in her bones and the fire was dead now. Hella shivered under her wax cloak as they wrapped things up and prepared to leave for the final stint.

The last few miles of their journey were a private purgatory for Hella, who felt like the weight of this betrayal bore down on her. Her feet grew heavy, her hips and spine ached with cold and sorrow. Her heart was like a ball of iron, weighing her down, until at last the long wooded path through a sacred grove opened up before them and the temple came into view. Suddenly there could never be enough time. Hella shivered violently, and not just from the cold. Eerika looked back at her, her smile faltering. From a deep, almost empty reservoir inside, Hella called up the strength to straighten her back and smile at the girl, whose concerns evaporated. She bounced on ahead, right through the temple doors with the old man. Hella said a silent prayer of gratitude for Eerika's ignorance.

**000**

Hella ran from the temple, her heart thundering so hard in her chest that it ached. The big wooden doors slammed shut behind her. She heard them bolt from the inside. Behind the wood, Eerika cried and yelled in fury. Hella spilled down the wooden steps, blinded by tears. She got three paces and stopped dead in the frozen morning, her white-cold hands clasped over her mouth as she started to cry.

She could hear Eerika sobbing and screaming obscenities at the two priests who'd held her back. It hurt too much to leave her like this. Hella's resolve failed. She turned to go back, to snatch the girl up in her arms and take her home, and bumped headlong into a solid, black body.

'No!' he insisted, grabbing her before she could wriggle free.

'Let go!' Hella cried, fighting his iron fingers. 'Let go of me, she needs me!'

'You are exactly what she does not need!' he growled at her, holding her arms so firmly that she questioned again if he was an _old_ man at all.

'I'm all she has!' Hella cried.

Inside the temple, something smashed. Hella's heart shattered with it. The old Seer's cloth was warm and dry, his face set into something that approximated pity.

'Not any more,' he said firmly. 'Now you are just her past. A memory. Don't torture her by going back.'

'She'll hate me,' she cried, trying to break his grip. He was so strong. He was almost holding her upright.

'Stop,' he said softly, pulling her closer. 'Stop,' his breath stirred the baby-fine hairs at her temple. 'No more fighting.'

Hella made a strangled noise as she sank to the forest floor with a thump. He lowered himself to regard her.

'It is done,' he said quietly. 'We must leave.'

Hella grasped the cloth at his chest. 'You have to stop them. She's just a child.'

'I told you,' he said, as he put a hand on the back of her skull. 'It was this...or death. You made the right choice. Now. We must go home.'

**000 **

Hella followed the Seer like a revenant, her tears dried on her face. She barely noticed the pain in her feet or the ache in her back, because the pain in her heart overrode it all. Her body protested every step she took away from Eerika. It pleaded with her to turn back. Hella had done the one thing Eerika would never forgive; abandoned her. Hella knew she'd have a future with the temple, but it wasn't the one she'd have wished on the girl. Just the only future available where food and shelter were certain.

The walk down was easier on her body, but it hurt much more than Hella could bear. As the steep bank turned into trees again, Hella leaned on the fractured trunk of a twisted ash, struggling to find breath in the cold, struggling to see the path through her tears. She didn't want to go any further. She couldn't find the will.

'Come,' he ordered ominously, a few paces ahead. Hella shook her head, dissolving into tears. Her heart ached as though a piece had been torn out of it.

'I can't do this,' she cried, using the tree for support.

'What you have done is a _kindness.'_

Hella put her forehead to the bark. She was so cold. Her feet hurt so much and she felt empty without Eerika. She felt pointless. The Seer shed his cloak.

'Come here,' he said, his voice gentle. He wrapped it around her shoulders. Hella clutched it gratefully. He held his hand out for hers. 'Come,' he insisted. Hella followed, clutching his cloak for the warmth it offered.

That night Hella lay on a bed of leaves, gazing up at the stars. Tears ran freely down her face to wet the old cloak she'd pillowed her head on. The old man munched on mushrooms and dried meat as the fire crackled. Hella's breath hitched. He brought her food but she refused to eat.

Hella woke up dry-mouthed and sticky-eyed, sick to her stomach, weak and sad. Two miles down the mountain slope, she stumbled on a rock, caught her ankle and hit her head with a burst of intense pain, and lay twisted on the ground until darkness came to claim her.

Hella woke in a real bed, her head pounding, her arms hurting her leg aching. There was a canopy above her, and a thatched roof. The Seer sat immobile in the chair beside her, his face turned towards the flickery hearth, his stick against his shoulder. Hella smelled the woodsmoke and food. Her stomach ached with hunger.

'What happened?' she whispered weakly, wondering if he was even awake.

'You fell,' he said accusingly. 'And hit your head on the rocks. You have cost us three days.'

'Am I suppose to say I'm sorry for tripping over?'

He bared his teeth.

'How did we get here?' Hella looked down at her own arms. They were bandaged. 'Where are we?'

'Don't ask me so many questions,' he grunted, turning his face to the crackling hearth. 'How should I know where we are or how I managed to carry you to the nearest house I could see! Just be grateful, and pity an old man his aching back.'

Hella sighed, rubbing at her head.

'Is Eerika safe-'

He took a deep breath, then his dark lips cracked open as he gazed at the ceiling.

'I cannot see. But perhaps it is best you don't know at any rate!'

Hella wanted to cry.

'If you know...I want you to tell me, old man.'

He was stubbornly silent.

'TELL ME!' Hella cried.

'No,' he admitted finally. 'She is neither safe...nor happy. But the future is written by the events that unfold...NOW. She could do well in time...if she makes the right choices.'

Hella cried, her whole body shaking. She slept the afternoon away, lulled by the crackling fire and whatever he was putting in the water he kept insisting she drink. He wasn't the best doctor, she realised, but he had the sense to have the innkeeper's wife change her bandages, and when they came off Hella realised that she'd cut her forearms on the sharp rocks. The cuts didn't look deep, at most they were in the meat of her arms, and nothing was broken, not even the ankle she'd twisted in the fall. It was purple though. Hella sat uncomfortably in the corner seat of the tavern downstairs, using a stick the innkeeper had given her to lean on, feeling as old and decrepit as her companion, who happily drained a mug of ale then belched.

'Did you find out where we are?'

'Somewhere between Uppsala and Kattegat,' he said obstructively.

'I meant the name of the Inn, you old boob.'

'What does it matter?'

'It's called _conversation_ ,' Hella put her head back in frustration. 'Curiosity. Just... _ **say**_ something to me for God's sakes before I run mad.'

'What would you like me to say?' he asked, turning his scarred and pitted face to her. 'You did the right thing. Your poor foot will heal soon?' He waved a hand dismissively. 'Fine. You did the right thing and you will heal. Not like you will believe me anyway,' he added darkly.

'Are you always such a mean old _crow?'_ she spat, annoyed.

He bared his teeth. 'Yes.'

Hella sighed, folding her arms. 'I know what's wrong with you. You're sore because you can't go home tonight to your nice comfortable cot in your little hut full of bones. You're out of your comfort zone, and you're scared someone is going to slit your throat in the night. And if you keep baiting me and being such a stick in the mud, it might be me that does!'

'You wouldn't dare,' he huffed. 'I'm the only reason you're alive.'

Hella snorted into her ale.

'This whole thing is your fault, old man. It was you who told me to take her. Your... _prophecy._ How do I know you told me the truth, hmm?'

'Why would I lie?' he countered. 'I'm too old and tired to be bothered with such things. I never lie.'

'I should go back for her.'

'You would be an _idiot_ to do so. You would undo all the good work you've done. What sort of future do you think she would have had...with _you?'_

Hella stared at him. 'I was doing fine.'

'No. You were _not._ You were taking care of a child who is not your own. You're barely a woman yourself. The girl's gifts could buy her a long life. Now you can live free, for yourself _only.'_

Hella's eyes went hot, tears spilling down her cheeks.

'I don't want to live free.'

'But the Gods _do_ want that.'

'How do you know what they want?' Hella demanded.

'I know because I hear them,' he said. 'You would too, if you would just _stop talking.'_

Hella tried to sleep, petulantly facing away from him, since they only had one room and one bed and there was no choice but the share both. Her body hurt so much she couldn't drop off. He was still awake, she could tell by how he breathed, but she hadn't said a word to him since they'd come back to their room, just to prove she could be quiet when she wanted to. The next morning he hadn't moved a muscle. He was still folded around his damned stick, snoring softly with his black lips open. Hella looked down. He'd taken off his shoes, but none of his clothes, thank the Gods. His toenails were trimmed, his feet well kept. His skin was weathered but not wrinkled, and not as _old_ as she'd expected. There were none of the veins you normally saw on old people's feet.

Hella picked up the sleeve of his robe and peered underneath curiously. There was something OFF about him, something he hid under all these layers of torn fabric. The residents of Kattegat had given him enough fabric to dress like a King, yet he wore these rags. He had food to feed an army in his house, but he ate wild mushroom soup. How had he managed to carry Eerika so easily? How had he carried her to the Inn? Maybe he _was_ favoured by the Gods, because no man so ancient should still be so fit and able.

'What in the name of the Gods are you doing to me?' he grumbled suddenly, his face coming alive as though he'd just opened his eyes to look at her.

'There's something wrong with you.'

He snorted. 'You have a gift for stating...the obvious,' he said drily.

'I don't mean like _that_. I mean...you're not what you say you are. You're hiding something.'

'I'm just a simple old Seer,' he said defensively. 'You're imagining things.'

'No I'm not,' she insisted, reaching for him again.

'Stop that,' he told her, tugging his sleeve away. 'You are far too curious for your own good,' he grouched. 'Now let me rest. Your snoring has kept me awake _all_ night.'

* * *

**A/N - More to come!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

Hella struggled over rough patches of knotted brown grass, her ankle hurting. The sky had gone white-grey and thick, like cream, and now snow was starting to fall. She shivered as it dampened her skin and hair. They'd left the inn behind a few hours ago and walked a quarter of a mile down the mountain pass, when Hella had turned to look at the building and found the space it had stood was utterly empty.

'Don't dawdle!' he'd barked at her. Hella looked up and down in every direction, even hobbling as far as she could while he waited, frustrated, for her to return.

'Where is it?' she demanded.

He leaned in, his attention heavy.

'You're raving, woman. _Keep up.'_

When they stopped for the night, Hella almost collapsed. Her ankle hurt so much that she was scared to take off her boot. She sniffled and wept as she tried to unlace the shoe, which was too small now anyway.

'What ails you?' he looked up from where he was warming his hands. Hella shook her head at him, but she was too tired to bother explaining how much pain she was in. She tugged at the bandage on her leg but her fingers were tired and she felt as weak as a newborn kitten.

'Stop fidgeting with it,' he said, more gently than usual. He crossed the clearing and took her foot in his hands. 'Let me see.'

'You're not a healer,' Hella said uncooperatively.

'No, but...I could always cut off your foot.'

Hella went cold with fear until she realised he was grinning at her like a wolf.

'Very funny.'

'I do try,' he agreed, putting her ankle on his lap. 'Keep still,' he added. He pulled the laces loose, slid the boot off, then picked the bandages off. Her ankle was badly bruised, but there wasn't any blood or bone showing.

'It seems you'll live to walk another day.'

'How can you see to do that?' Hella asked curiously, gathering the bandage out of his hands to be rolled up for later.

He sighed. 'I told you. I see-'

'What the Gods want you to,' she agreed. 'I know. So why do the Gods want you to see my foot?'

'Only the Gods know,' he said cryptically.

She leaned in, both vexed and amused by him.

'Maybe you're not so wise after all,' she said lightly.

He turned to look at her. 'A good deal wiser than you.'

Hella smiled. At least she had SOME company on the road, even if it was only this old goat.

'Do we have any food left?'

'Mushrooms,' he said, making a face that demonstrated his dislike plainly.

'If you hate them so much why are you always eating them?'

He smirked.

'You are VERY young.'

'What does that mean?'

'It means,' he said, looking mildly aggravated, 'That they taste disgusting, but they produce the most wonderful flavours of...light. And sound. In the mind.'

Hella shook her head at him, realising what he meant.

'You're the least holy _holy man_ I've ever met.'

'What is holy?' he asked, looking a little devious. ' _You_ were born in a small village, far from civilisation. You think you've lived a long time, all of seventeen years. You have this clear divide...in your head. This is holy, that is simply human behaviour. He cannot be holy because he's human. I cannot be real, my Sight is fake,' he grinned at her toothily. 'I _lie_. Stop spending so much time _thinking_ about me. Or I'll assume you find me comely. At least...from the nose down.'

Hella went bright red.

'Now you don't know what to say,' he added. 'If you deny it, you insult me, but if you confirm it I might sneak under your fur tonight.' He sighed and shook his head. 'You think too much. _Stop_ thinking.'

'You're a strange old man,' she observed. 'How do you know so much about me, hmm? You seem to...understand...the way my mind works.'

He shrugged. 'I'm old. I've lived many lives.'

'That's obvious,' she said pointedly, hoping for a reaction.

He patted her wounded ankle firmly, making her gasp. Hella cursed him softly. He only chuckled.

'Go to sleep,' he told her.

'I don't want to,' Hella admitted quietly. 'Not here. In this...blackness.'

'You are safer at night than you are in the day.'

'How does that make sense?'

'In the dark, nobody can see you.'

Hella didn't want to tell him that it wasn't just _people_ she feared. Maybe she feared him a little bit too. Hella thought of Eerika, miles above them, fighting her captors and hugged her cloak closer. The old Seer released her foot, his dry fingers soft on her calf for a moment before he let go, leaving her shivery and sensitized in a way she couldn't explain.

She watched him go and lie down and fold his hands on his chest. It didn't make any sense but she almost...sort of.. _.liked_ him.

**000**

When they stopped to rest for a midday meal of dried meat and fruit and cold stream water, Hella sat by the stream rubbing her leg. That morning she'd put the bandage back on. It itched where she sweated.

'I doubt you have any coin,' Hella said as he started a fire. 'Nothing less than a hundred years old anyway. How did you get us that room...and fed?'

'What does it matter now? It's long past.'

'It matters. I want to know.'

He looked up, his scraped and pitted skull focused on her.

'What is it that you suspect me of?'

'I think you're a God.'

He laughed.

'I am not a God. Just an old man.'

'Then why do I feel like I can trust you?'

'I have less interest in the things of this world...than most. Perhaps that feels safe to you.'

'Yes,' she whispered her agreement. 'It does.'

He gave her a soft, dark-lipped smile.

Hella could see distant Kattegat from the hillside, but it seemed like a long way. She wondered why she was bothering. Kattegat had only been a temporary home. She had a job there, but she could find another. Then she thought about Uppsala and wondered, if she went back alone, would they even let her see Eerika? The old man was now the only tie she had to the girl, the only person who could vouch for their connection.

Suddenly she felt cheated out of Eerika, as though the trap had been laid for both of them.

'Why did you tell me to take her up there?'

He sighed loudly.

'I _told_ you. It was for the best. It was that or-'

'Or _death_ , yes. Why do I feel like you did this for your own gain?'

'What could I possibly have to gain from walking so many miles with a girl who cannot _shut up?'_

'I don't know. Maybe you had to get away for a while. You didn't get some wench with child did you?'

'What an absurd notion,' he said, watching her with a strange expression on his dark lips.

'Two wenches? Who want to string you up by your withered manhood, right?'

He smirked. Not the reaction she was hoping for.

'Is _that_ what you were after, looking under my clothes as you were?'

Hella flushed. His smirk grew and grew, widening into a cat-like grin and absolute satisfaction that made Hella go even redder. _Dirty old goat._

'I'm blind,' he laughed, walking close to her. 'But even I can see your face is like a beetroot.'

Hella denied it, but her breathless surprise gave her away. 'I-I wasn't doing that. I wanted to know what you're hiding, that's all.'

He straightened, looking satisfied.

'Nothing,' he said.

**000 **

Hella went back to work standing on an old stick for a crutch, her back and arms aching after each long day. Her ankle stubbornly refused to heal after the long walk back to Kattegat and she began to feel trapped here. She had to stay, in the hopes she could see Eerika again. She slept fitfully and woke up tired each morning. She saw the old man only in passing when he came to the market, and she discovered he had a habit of occupying an abandoned cove around the bay, and walking the beach up and down, up and down, speaking to the sea. He wore tracks into the sand with his pacing. Hella watched him from the cliff top sometimes after work where she dried her hair in the wind with the other women.

She woke late and came down to warm up some milk for breakfast, and Helga was white and slumped in the chair, her mouth slack, skin already sunken. She'd probably been dead for most of the night. Hella called the men in the nearby houses to come and take the body away, and Tamas offered an old, half burned rack of logs to be her pyre. Helga had no money to speak of, no valuables, nothing but the house she'd lived in, which was taken by the Earl.

Hella stood in the hall, her back warmed by the fire, wondering where she'd go. She'd just found a place, and now she had nothing once again.

'You need a job?' Ragnar asked.

'No, Lord, I have a job. I need a home. I was living with Helga.'

'I may be able to provide a solution,' said a familiar voice from the back of the room. Through the wreaths of solid grey smoke stepped the old Seer, leaning on his stick. 'I need some...assistance. I'm tired of mushroom broth. Surely you wouldn't deny me this, Earl Ragnar?'

Ragnar smiled, obviously amused. Hella wondered what he was playing at.

'Can you cook?' Ragnar asked Hella drily.

'No, Lord,' she teased. 'But I'll wager I can do a better job than the old man.'

'Have you tasted his soup?' Ragnar asked.

'No.'

'You're right,' Ragnar smiled.

The Seer made a face and said nothing.

'If that's your wish then,' Ragnar gestured to the Seer. 'Go with him. It's not my concern, is it?'

'There is one more thing,' the old man said mildly. 'We spoke of it a moon ago. I have yet to hear your answer.'

'You receive gifts from the populace don't you?'

The old man said nothing.

'Fine, fine,' Ragnar agreed to terms Hella hadn't been privy to. 'You'll have a salary. I know a man can't live by bread alone. And all that.'

The old man smiled broadly, then he tugged Hella outside by the arm. She pulled away.

'I'm not your slave,' she bit. 'How _dare_ you try to make me one!'

'If not for me, you would be living in the hedgerow!' He snipped back. 'You should be grateful. Besides. You owe me for saving your skin in the mountains.'

'I owe you nothing. It was a stupid idea to take her up there, and as soon as I can I'm going to get her back-'

'Remember what I told you, girl. It was this...or death.'

'I don't believe in your prophecies!' Hella snapped.

'You should. The Gods speak through me.'

'Well then ask the Gods who's cooking your dinner tonight, because it won't be me. I'm not a housemaid.'

'I have asked them,' he said. 'They told me it would be _you.'_

Hella folded her arms. 'I'm not your slave,' she said again.

The old man smiled. 'You are not my slave, no.'

'And are you going to pay me?'

'Payment is room and board,' he said snappishly. 'Don't get...cheeky.'

Hella thought about it. How hard could feeding the old coot three good meals a day be? And if it kept her ear in the right place for news of Eerika, maybe it would be worth it. Surely he travelled to Uppsala sometimes, it was where his order trained. It made sense to stick close.

'Fine,' Hella agreed. 'Fine. But I'm going to negotiate with Tamas. I want to work. I'm not going to sit around your hovel all day counting bones!'

'Do as you like,' he said, his teeth bared again. 'I couldn't care, as long as I eat.'

'Fine,' she said.

'Fine,' he echoed.

Hella slopped the best rabbit stew she could make into a bowl with fresh bread fetched from the market and put it down in front of him. He grinned.

'Ahhh,' he sniffed at it. 'Now this is a bit...more like it.'

Hella rolled her eyes as he began devouring it.

'Why aren't you eating?' he asked after a minute. Hella didn't know what to say. She'd figured she was just there to cook his dinner, not eat, drink, make merry and have a conversation. 'Eat,' he insisted. 'I said room and board and I meant it, now that I have our Earl paying me a wage I can eat rabbit. About time too.'

'What do you mean? You didn't get paid before?'

'No,' he smirked, pleased with himself. 'Now I do. And why not? When I need to travel to the temple I have to walk. Why should I walk? He should pay me to stay here and speak to people all day about the future. It's as good as a job and it takes up all my time.'

'Isn't there some sort of law against you being paid?'

'Don't be absurd,' he said. 'It's up to the Earl how he compensates a temple Seer for his time. Personally, I rather like gold. And silver. And I'd relish a new bear skin.'

Hella couldn't help but chuckle.

'You want to live the good life.'

'I wish to be comfortable,' he said. 'What's wrong with that? I'm an old man. This damned hut gets cold. If our Earl wishes to engage my services, he can damned well keep me warm.'

'I thought you weren't allowed to leave Kattegat. Wouldn't your order punish you?'

'Who said anything about leaving?' he said mildly. 'I have no reason to leave.'

'But-'

'I know what you meant,' he waved her off. 'What more can they do to me?' he gestured to his own skull.

'I suppose they could kill you.'

'I am not afraid of dying,' he pointed at her nose, chuckling. 'You are closer to it than I am.'

'You won't outlive me,' Hella returned his teasing. 'Come on. What are you, a hundred now?'

'I have cheated death five times,' he held up all his fingers. 'You wouldn't understand. You barely know you are born.'

Hella shook her head at him.

'I think I am going to enjoy this,' he announced, as he sat back, apparently satisfied, the bowl empty, bread gone. 'It's much nicer to eat when someone else has cooked!'

Hella erected a curtain to separate the room she was going to use from the hut. It was spacious enough that she could fit a cot and a chair and table inside, and there were shelves full of his dusty bones and antlers that she moved into his space, then she sat looking at the sea, her hands wrapped in strips of cloth, ready for work. Tamas would let her work from dawn to midday and pay her half the normal wage, which suited Hella, as the Seer wasn't a picky eater, and she'd found he would inhale everything she put in front of him without complaint.

He was satisfied as long as she swept up the dust and he seemed to enjoy baiting her as she emptied the hearth and laid a new fire. Hella was done long before it was time to eat again, and as the weeks ground by she began to realise that by asking for her services, the old man had done her a favour. She no longer had to toil on the boats from dawn until dusk and she was still earning enough that she could afford a new dress.

When she made friends with a fisherman's wife, she started to pay attention to how she cooked for her husband and daughters. Hella settled far too easily into the new routine, but she couldn't get her thoughts off Eerika and what she'd done to the girl.

Hella was in the larder, which was now well stocked with milk and cheese and meat for the nights meal, listening when Earl Ragnar came to visit. She heard the old man greet him.

'It's tidy,' Ragnar said mildly. 'And if I'm not mistaken you have colour in your cheeks. What _has_ she been doing for you?'

'I wouldn't speak too loudly,' the old man said. Hella could hear the smile in his voice. 'She has quite the temper, you know.'

'I'm sure she does. Keeps you in your place. It's about time someone did.'

'And what does that mean, Earl Ragnar?'

'This extortion is intolerable,' Ragnar said, putting a bag of coins down on the table with a clink. The old man scooped them up and pocketed them. Hella got the feeling the Earl was teasing, but she wouldn't have wanted to bet her hand on it.

'For you,' the old man smirked knowingly. 'I could answer a few _more_ questions.'

'Mmm,' Ragnar nodded approvingly. 'Then I think we have an arrangement.'

'Excellent,' the old man hissed.

Hella had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. He was a cunning old goat at the best of times, witty and dry and very moody, but she was coming to find him quite endearing. He had a way of digging under her skin to get to her weak spots, but when he found them he rarely did more than poke and then accept their presence. Not like some people she'd met, who found vulnerabilities only to expose them before the whole town, and torment her endlessly for being so weak. Just for that reason alone, Hella had decided to herself that the Seer was good natured, really, as long as he wasn't hungry. At those times his dark humour became as dry as his dusty old bones, and bordered incisive.

That night, Hella set a baked pastry down in front of the old man and the hot, spicy tea he enjoyed.

'Do you ever see Eerika in your visions?' Hella asked him.

'No. I never see her. But you...you worry for her.'

Hella swallowed the lump in her throat.

'What if you're wrong?' Hella asked. 'And she's in trouble.'

'Why would you believe she's in trouble?'

'I dream about her,' Hella said quietly. 'I see her...bloody...and screaming.'

He licked crumbs off his fingers.

'I see nothing but what was always meant to be.'

'What does that mean? Is she in pain or isn't she?'

'If I told you she suffers, you'd go to her. But not all suffering is an evil,' he leaned in slightly and added; 'Hella.'

Hella shivered. He said her name like it was something indulgent and tasty.

Hella woke long before dawn, shaking and sweating. She'd seen through Eerika's eyes as the girl tried to run away. The temple priests caught her and beat her bloody. Hella tugged on her shawl and went outside into the dark, chilly night. When she came back, the rain had drenched her. She was trembling so hard that when she tried to manhandle a log onto the fire, she dropped it on her foot. By morning her face was white and she was cold even under an extra fur. When she didn't turn up for work, Tamas sent Bridgit to check on her. Hella heard her edge into the Seer's hut.

'Ancient One?' she whispered, sounding more anxious than Hella had ever heard her. 'I-Is Hella here?'

'How should I know?' he grunted, as though he'd just woken up. 'She's a free woman. Go and look for yourself.'

Hella managed to push the door open between their living areas and Bridgit saw her. She hustled through the room and shut the door, looking nervous.

'Gods, Hella, you look so sick.'

'I'm fine,' Hella tried to say, but her throat was raw and her body shook uncontrollably. 'Bridgit...will you...just tell Tamas I can't work today? Tell him I have a case of death or something.'

'That's not funny, Hella,' Bridgit said quickly.

'I know, I'm sorry. Just tell him.'

Bridgit back out, seemingly gratefully. When his breakfast didn't come, the Seer thumped on the wall outside.

'I can't,' she managed to croak, reaching over to push the thing over feebly. She didn't care she was laying in nothing but a sheet and her underwear, sweating and shaking. 'I can't,' she whispered again, as his face registered surprise. His attention tracked up her body from her bare, white feet to her naked hip and finally to her sweaty, greasy hair and pale face. He licked his lips. Hella had the feeling he could not only see her, but he was _thinking_ about what he saw.

'It is a fever,' he said finally, crouching by the bed fearlessly to feel her forehead with the backs of his fingers.

'Don't,' she breathed at him. 'You'll catch it too.'

'I've survived worse.'

The fire crackled behind an iron grate built in so long ago that the slab of stone under it was turning to dust. The night wind stirred the little bone chimes in the Seer's hut. Hella took the hot, spicy concoction the old man offered from the pot over the fire and sipped it, her hands growing tired so fast that she could barely hold it up long enough to drink. She wouldn't ask him to feed her. The idea was laughable. But she was glad of the fire, and the spot on the end of his cot near the hearth where she could keep warm against the shivers and shakes that racked her body.

Hella was almost in another world where vivid nightmares came to life, playing in the huts shadows, when he touched her shoulder, trailing warm fingers along her skin. Hella shivered. His skin was dry and hot, and his touch wasn't unpleasant. She'd always imagined he'd have those dirty, chipped nails old people often had. Though his skin was weathered, she felt the life and strength flowing through him when his skin touched hers, and she wondered if that was part of his connection to the Gods. Were _they_ keeping him alive?

'You're freezing cold, Hella.'

'I-I know,' she shook. He lifted his new fur off the floor and lay it over her.

'It won't last forever. Your fever will break soon.'

'How do you know?' Hella whispered. Her throat was so sore.

'I have Seen it.'

Hella huddled under the fur. Her hair was damp, she could feel the sweat running off her.

'I don't think...anyone else would care if I died,' she said, trembling so her teeth chattered. 'Even Bridgit ran when she saw me like this.'

'I could tell you thinks about that woman that would turn your flame-hair white.'

'H-How do you know about her?'

'I See much,' he said quietly. 'But...it is not my job to share it.'

'Why do you stay here and do this?' Hella asked. 'You obviously hate it. Why don't you just leave, find a life somewhere else?'

He laughed and laughed, his black lips stretched into a smile.

'I am old,' he said. 'No amount of willpower could keep this vessel going...if I chose to abandon the Gods. I would die. And I prefer to live, for now.'

'You're a prisoner, then.'

'In a way,' he agreed. 'But no more than any other man. And my position has...certain benefits.'

'Why do you care?' Hella asked, as he rubbed the back of her neck gently, his hand radiating warmth and suddenly; relief. Hella felt her eyes fill up with tears as the pain in her throat eased off. Her headache eased up too and for a long time, she lay there enjoying the feeling. 'You could just throw me out...Ragnar would give you another cook, I'm sure. Why bother with me?'

He smiled. 'Why would I do anything now? I've lived such a long time...the only thing that is new to me...is you. Do you know...how I see? How I know who comes calling?'

'No,' she whispered.

'No,' he echoed. 'Few do. Everyone has their own...smell. Their own sound. Every man, woman and child walks differently, but it's not that. I see them by their shape in my mind...most are little more than shadows, barely here. Barely _living_ , so wrapped up in selfishness, greed and envy that they might as well be dead! A few give off the faintest wisps...of colour, like fog around a torch flame. Those are the...brighter souls.'

Hella had turned her head to look up at him.

'Do I have a colour? Because...sometimes I just feel like a shadow.'

'Yes,' he agreed, his voice dropping to a low hiss as he leaned forwards, his fingers playing over her throat idly. 'You **shine**...like a snowdrop, hinting at sunlight yellow. Have you ever seen light play off the woodland floor...in Spring when they emerge from the snow? That is your colour.'

Hella was breathless, and not from the fever. She couldn't believe the effect his touch was having on her. It was as though his fingers reached through her flesh to touch the very core of her being, piercing little holes in her, making her feel vulnerable and open. It felt like an invitation. It wasn't lecherous like other men had been with her, and it wasn't pushy. He just seemed hungry to touch her skin, and Hella wanted him to, even though that didn't make sense.

'I've never seen them,' she said.

'I know where they grow. If you can withstand me until the Spring, I will show you where they bow their heads in worship to sun and wind. If you pick them...they wither faster than any other bloom. And here you thought...I was just a blind old man, with no soul.'

'I don't think that,' Hella said, tilting her chin slightly. She felt his breath catch lightly, and saw him lick his open lips. Then he withdrew his hand. She felt a pang of disappointed. Part of her had almost wished he'd kiss her.

'I saw many things before they put out my eyes,' he added. 'Now I only have memories...but they are as clear as the day I stood there.'

'What do the Gods show you?' she asked.

'The truth. Always, the truth, no matter how grotesque.'

'Never good things?'

'Recently, I have been seeing more...good things,' he said quietly, his hand twitching towards her skin. He stopped it before it could connect. Hella wished he'd touch her again.

The fever eased three days later, and Hella walked around like the dead raised up, aching, hurting and sore, preparing food for them even though she really didn't have the strength. When the dark came and they'd both eaten, and no more visitors came to the door, Hella often tried to think of an excuse to sit closer to him, but one never presented itself. She wanted him to touch her again. She lay on her own cot, still weak and sickly, wondering if the touch meant what she thought it did, if she wanted that.

Old man or not, there was something about the Seer that she liked.

When Hella went back to work, exhausted and shaky from the sickness, she suffered a full fortnight before the illness left her body completely. After a few days, he developed a habit of walking down to the beach from to meet her as she finished work. One night, as the days were drawing in, he handed her a silver coin, his fingers dry and warm.

'Bring a fish for our supper. A nice...juicy one.'

Hella smiled at him. She was growing ever fonder of him. More than she'd ever admit aloud.

'How can I tell if a fish is juicy?' she asked.

He leaned in, his eye-ridges going up, black lips tilted with cheeky intent. 'You could give it a little _squeeze.'_

Hella's heart somersaulted in enjoyment. She knew he wasn't talking about fish.

Then she thought of Eerika, alone in Uppsala and she wanted to cry. She should go back and save the girl, but something inside her was saying...she never would. What if he was right? What if bringing her back meant her death? Hella couldn't live with that. She bought the juiciest, fattest fish she could see and they were half way up the sand when he said;

'I want a walk. The fish will keep a while.'

They wandered the sand, his robe flicking at her legs as the sun sank and the market packed up. Hella watched the sky change from yellow to orange to gold. It was beautiful.

'Can you see the sun?' she asked him.

'I see nothing...nothing of life at all, except what the Gods give me. Just an expanse of darkness...with warmth from above.'

'But you know what it all looks like.'

'Yes,' he nodded. Hella let her toes dig into the sand, moving them pleasantly against the inrushing water.

'The sun is setting,' she told him. 'Bronze like the colour of leaves in Autumn. Gold like the bracelets and earrings women wear, yellow like fresh narcissus in Spring, red like blood. Right now, the sky is the colour of fire, with flowers growing through the flames as though they were nectar. The sky is like a river of fire, with a single mountain peak made of grey and purple cloud, and the dark is coming in across the bay, turning the sky the colour of ripe plums...I can see six...no... _seven_ stars.'

Slowly, he'd turned his face towards her, his lips open a little, his expression intense even with no eyes to describe it. His chest rose and fell, he was breathing more deeply than usual through his open lips. The bones on his staff clinked in the breeze.

'And the sea?' he asked, his voice a warm caress against the coiled base of her spine. 'What do the waves say?'

Hella breathed in deeply, the smell of salt and seaweed in the back of her throat, familiar and now comforting and alongside it, the smell of his clothes and skin. She wanted him to touch her. More than she could remember ever wanting anything.

'They whip like thick cream in the breeze, I see little sylphs made of foam, the scales of mermaids flicking to and fro just beneath the moving surface. And the water reflects the sky. We could be standing between two worlds here. Can you taste the wind?'

'I taste it,' he nodded. 'And something else. Flowers,' his eyeless skull tilted to the dried flowers she'd worn in her hair. He licked his black lips, the energy around him suddenly crackling. Hella felt like her knees had turned to the soft fat at the bottom of an iron griddle pan after the pork was cooked.

'I see it now,' he confessed quietly. 'As though...through your eyes.'

Hella smiled at him, even though he couldn't see it. His lips tilted up. Then he held out his hand for the basket she carried. She laughed.

'The more I watch you, old man, the more I think you see far more than _I_ do.'

His breath seized. Something crossed his face. He looked at her as though the sky was about to fall, the ground was about to break open and unleash the dead. Then he tore his eyeless stare away as he took the basket.

The Seer sat with his bare feet up by the fire, his fingers buried in the fur Hella had laid over his chair earlier. She could smell the spicy drink he liked. A pot of it bubbled over the fire. He ate their fish supper with relish, crunching on little bones. How was it he still had all his teeth? For someone so old, the skin of his throat was surprisingly smooth. Hella began to wonder if he was old at all, or if his scarred and mutilated face simply gave the impression of age. She glanced down at his bare feet. Someone took good care of them, and his hands. She mapped the lines of his fingers, his knobbly knuckles and the tendons that strung the backs. They weren't the hands of an old man either.

'Do you have a name?' she asked. 'I'm tired of calling you old man. Or old goat when you're not around.'

He snorted. 'Only you,' he pointed at her with a finger, 'Would ever be so bold. I should tell you, girl, a goat is a noble animal! It gives both milk and meat, and it's a wise, _potent_ creature.'

Hella laughed.

'What did your Mother call you?'

He knitted his hands on his belly.

'You must give me something in return if you want to know it. Something noone else can boast.'

'I don't have anything I can give you.'

'Come here,' he patted the spot next to him, his little smirk suggesting he was teasing again, as usual. It was said to softly, so confidently, that Hella couldn't resist. She settled next to him, nervous and exhilarated.

'Closer,' he persisted. 'Unless you're too _afraid.'_

Hella obeyed. He offered the palm of his hand.

'I think you are as innocent of why they lick my palm as you're innocent of...other things. The Gods are not interested in the mouth...but I am.'

'W-why?' Hella asked, her voice quivering like her core.

'They show me trust,' he said. 'By offering...the face...to my hand. And from it I can read their life, all their memories, the colour of their soul.'

'You want my trust,' Hella whispered, catching on.

'No, I cannot _want_ it, you must _give_ it. If you do...I will tell you my name and you may use it to summon me,' his voice dropped, a clear thread laced into his words; 'That is an honour I've given few others. Do not misuse my gift.'

Hella took his hand and trembling, put out her tongue and licked his palm. He gasped, starting so hard that she jumped too, wondering if she'd done something wrong. She tried to pull away but he grasped her hand, holding her in place. Hella's heart thumped. Then his lips tilted up. She stared at his cross-hatched and mutilated face, at the space where his eyes should be. It was like he was looking _through_ her.

'You are like an ocean of secrets,' he whispered, his lips so close that Hella could almost feel them. Then she looked down. His sleeve had rolled down his arm. She gasped. Before he could catch on, she ripped the fabric aside and snatched up his wrist. His skin was weathered but smooth, much smoother than his face. Then it clicked and Hella realised she was guilty of the same assumptions everyone made.

'You're not an old man,' she whispered. 'Your skin...you aren't wrinkled...but your face-'

'That depends,' he said. 'On what you would consider _old.'_

'Not this,' Hella said, turning his forearm over. It was why he was still fit and strong, why he could carry her and lift Eerika.

'They cut your face to make you frightening,' she said finally, gazing at the deep slices in the skin there and the thick, white skin that had built up around his missing eyes.

'I was quite frightening to begin with,' he said darkly. 'People do not like a person who can **see**. It upsets them. It makes them feel...afraid. As though the Gods were watching their sins through my eyes. So they put my eyes out, and made me like this. But I can still see,' he smirked. 'So I had the last laugh. They are all dead now. Like I told you...I have cheated death five times over. When I was still young enough to chase the tavern girls around...I stopped ageing. Death cannot touch me, no matter how old I get. I am too useful.'

'Eerika was right...you had a wife and children, didn't you.'

'You knew that already. I don't see why it surprises you now.'

'It saddens me.'

'Then you are the only one who cares,' he said lightly. 'They are so long dead that they have turned to dust.'

Hella ran her fingers along his forearm, tracing veins full of blue blood through his skin.

'Five times,' she said quietly. 'You mean you've lived five lifetimes?'

'Mmmm,' he nodded, his lips twisted into a cheeky little smirk. 'Nearly six,' he said, like it was a secret.

'Three hundred...' she whispered. 'Over three hundred years.'

He leaned in, grinning. 'Yes,' he said darkly. 'And still as spry as the day I hatched from a hen's egg...incubated by a frog.'

He chuckled, pulling his sleeve back down.

'What if I went outside and told somebody. Aren't you afraid?'

'Nobody would believe you,' he smirked.

'Will you die?' she asked quietly.

'Everyone dies.'

He smiled. 'Let me give you a bit of advice, girl,' he said, gesturing her closer with a crooked finger. 'Have as much fun as you can, before that day comes.'

Hella felt his breath tickle her face and her insides burst open, burning and roiling with sudden feelings she'd never really had the chance to become acquainted with. Before she could stop herself, she wrapped an arm around his neck and accepted the soft brush of lips he pressed to her mouth. She felt his breath grow shaky against her face, felt him move in, then he pushed her head into a better position with his nose and took her mouth, his fingers sneaking into her hair. Hella wrapped herself around him. She'd only done this once before, but it'd never felt so good.

His charcoal stained her lips black. Hella could taste it, along with his patient tongue. Suddenly he pulled away.

'Someone is coming,' he sounded irritated. 'Now of _all_ times.'

Hella bit her lip, smiling.

'Go,' he said, reluctantly releasing her. 'Though it pains me.'

Hella slid off the bed and made a hasty retreat as a shadowy woman pushed the curtain aside.

'Ancient one? Are you in here?'


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Hella lay in her bed, the coiled base of her spine aching warm after their kiss. Cool air sank down from the window to stroke her face and combat the heat in her body. She'd only felt this way once before with a farmhand she liked, but this was much, much better than that. He'd told her she was plain and replaced her with a prettier blonde before they got past kissing. Hella knew it wasn't a lie. Her autumn hair was her most distinguishing feature. Her eyes were an unremarkable brown like the sludge at the bottom of the ale barrel.

Hella was vaguely aware of the fact she was dreaming, but her heart still pounded in fear. She stood alone on a cold stone floor, surrounded by the statues of the Gods. Her back hurt like it never had before. When she reached to touch it, her hand came back bloody. Hella looked down. A bloody knife lay at Freya's feet. She'd been stabbed, and in her heart she know who by.

'Eerika!' Hella called out, as heat pumped down her back. 'Eerika, please-'

Hella woke up with a yell, sick with fear. She sat up in bed, her skin sheened with cold sweat, checking the blankets for blood. They were clean. Trembling, she crept past the Seer's resting form to manhandle a log onto the fire. She sat warming her hands and feet, her own cool sweat drying on her body. It had felt so real, and Hella had felt so _betrayed._

'What is it?' he murmured suddenly. 'What're you upto?'

'Nothing,' Hella lied. 'It was just a bad dream. Go back to sleep.'

He sat up slowly to look at her. Then he pointed at her nose.

'You have Seen something.'

Hella's breath hitched. How did he know these things?

'Tell me what you saw,' he demanded.

'It was Eerika,' Hella admitted.

_'Her_ again.'

'I was in the temple at Uppsala. At the feet of Freya. Eerika...she'd stabbed me. I couldn't stop the blood.'

He patted the bed beside him. Hella went, shivering, to sit beside him, her knees touching his fur blanket.

'I-I think she's angry with me. She has every right. What I did to her...it's unforgivable. If she suffers...it's all my fault.'

He gave her the look of disapproval.

'I have to go and get her. I have to.'

'Then you condemn you BOTH.'

'I don't _care,_ ' Hella sobbed, 'I can't...I can't leave her up there all alone!'

Hella surged up suddenly as the weight of her guilt lifted. It was as though the Gods wanted her to be light enough to hurry. She went into her little room to collect up what she needed to carry. The Seer rose behind her, one hand braced on the doorway as he watched her in eyeless worry.

'You've gone mad!' he accused. 'You are _one girl_. You cannot travel at this time of night!'

Hella shook her head at him, pushing a fresh dress into an old cloth bag with a drawstring.

'I'll be fine, she said quietly, trying to convince herself.

'Stop,' he caught her body as she tried to squeeze past him. His fingers were like iron on her arms. 'If you do this you will die. Or worse.'

'I'm not asking you to come with me. I made this mess for her. I'm going to clean it up.'

His teeth flashed behind his lips. She realised he was smiling.

'You glow hotter than a brand fresh from the flames when you're angry. Do not go now. Wait.'

'Eerika needs me,' Hella tugged, but he held on tight. 'You're hurting me!' she protested.

'Then stop trying to wriggle away from me and _listen_ ,' he said, then he fell silent.

'You're not saying anything!' she accused.

'LISTEN,' he hissed into her ear.

Hella pushed against him. His proximity was making her body warm and achy again in the best ways. She didn't want him to distract her now.

'Listen,' he whispered, his lips brushing her ear. Then Hella heard it too. All her desire evaporated. She could hear someone else breathing in the room with them. Then Hella heard the tiny sound of a bare foot on wood. Hella turned to the door, her whole body suddenly on edge with fear.

'There's someone here,' Hella breathed. 'Gods...what's happening?'

The Seer turned his head, listening. Hella gasped as a familiar shape emerged from the dark doorway, a silver blade clutched in small fingers. The nightmare was coming true.

'Let go!' Hella cried as Eerika barrelled towards them. The old man pushed her solidly against the wall, covering her body with his. 'Oh God!' Hella screamed, wriggling to get free. She had to escape his hold, she had to stop the knife before-

The yelled in pain as Eerika plunged the blade into his back. His wrist hit the wood beside Hella's head, his sleeve riding up by her ear.

'No!' she cried, grabbing him by the waist. His blood soaked her sleeve. With his bare, scarred skull against the frame, he panted against her hair.

'You have...the gift,' he said softly, sinking to the floor, taking Hella with him.

'No, no!' Hella yelled, grabbing his mutilated face in both her hands. 'Don't! Don't you dare leave me! Eerika, what have you done!'

'He poisoned you against me!' the girl screeched, the knife flicking back and forth in the firelight.

Hella's eye flicked to the log she'd just put on the fire. One end was still unburned.

'Don't!' Hella cried, as Eerika surged forwards, knife raised. Hella grabbed the log and swung it. Eerika hit the wall and slumped, silently, against a bloodstain with the knife clutched in her fist. Hella's eyes filled up with burning tears. The old man turned his face up to hers, his lips twitching upwards. Hella tore off her shawl to press over the wound.

'There's no point,' he hissed.

The blood kept coming, soaking the cloth. 'Stay,' Hella sobbed. 'Stay there.'

Running next door felt like moving through honey. She couldn't go fast enough. It was like an awful dream where no matter how hard you try, the monster catches you anyway. She lunged into the neighbour's door, hammering on the wood as hard as she could, screaming words she couldn't remember five seconds later as a tired looking fisherman opened up holding a torch. He gazed at her quizzically.

Hella held up her bloody hands. 'Help me, please...he's bleeding out,' the fisherman stepped into the night to look at her closely. Hella exhaled a shaky breath. 'I killed her. I didn't mean to...she was going to kill him. I didn't mean to.'

He nodded, grasping her by the wrist. The torch held high, he brought he back into the Seer's home. The old man lay on the floor. He was white, his hand slack over the wound, Hella's shawl loose around his body. His face was even whiter than usual. As shouts travelled one house to the next, and finally torches appeared at the door, Hella sank into the old man's chair and cried. Eerika lay slumped at the foot of the wall, her hair matted with blood.

_I pushed her to this_ , Hella thought brokenly. _I left her in Uppsala, and she was angry. This is all my fault._

**000**

The morning was so cold that the air burned her lungs. Inside the healer's hut, something tangy, fresh and dry burned in the hearth. It filled the air with a scent that opened up her nose and dried her throat. Hella was due on the boats, but she couldn't leave until he was safe. She trembled from her core outwards. She couldn't keep her hands steady. The people who passed her by turned to stare. Hella didn't care if they looked at her any more. She didn't care if she was a fool, and if the whole town knew it. She'd grown to love the moody old goat, no matter what. She couldn't lose him now.

She'd already thrown up twice. Once with the fear of what the Earl would do to her and once when they carried out Eerika's body and any hope that the girl might survive was quashed when Hella saw that the log had caved in her skull. Her hair was gone, shaved, and the parts of her head Hella could see were covered in angry cuts. They'd mutilated her. Her wrists were red, as though she'd been tied up. Hella sobbed until she was sick again, then sat curled up against the healer's doorstep, waiting to hear the inevitable. How could such an old man survive being stabbed? There was no chance, and now Hella wasn't just alone again, she was without the only person left, who mattered.

Hella hadn't meant to hit her so hard. She just wanted to keep him alive. She wanted to see him again before the Earl's men came for her, even if it was just to say goodbye.

'What're you doing here?' the healer asked, her hands red, covered in herb paste, as she came to the door to wash them in a bowl her slave girl was holding. Hella sensed her disapproval, but a new strength was growing inside her. She no longer cared.

'Is he alive? Please...you have to tell me!'

The old woman's wrinkled mouth tilted up. She looked at Hella knowingly. 'He lives, still. He lost a great deal of blood. But it looks like he has a lot to live for.'

Hella sank to sit on the step, her arms wrapped around her knees.

'Come back at midday,' the healer said eventually. 'You can see him then. If that's what you want.'

Hella walked past the boats in a daze, her body cold and shaky. Bridgit called out to her but Hella heard her as though she was walking in a different world. Then strong hands grasped her by the arms and hauled her up. Hella realised there was still blood on her dress and hands from where she'd tried to stem his wound. Her eyes filled up with tears.

'Hella!' Bridgit called out as they dragged her away to face the Earl. Bridgit only called once, and she came no closer to offer any help. Hella wasn't surprised. Noone would want to be associated with her now.

Hella knelt before the Earl. She couldn't remember the journey here, but the fur was thick and soft on her knees. She could only see his gasping, parted lips and strained expression as he struggle to stay on his feet. She wanted to cry.

'What is this?' Ragnar asked the two men who'd brought her in.

'We found her like that,' one said. 'Covered in blood and such...we thought it must have something to do with it. With the _Wise One.'_

'Is he dead?' Hella cried out suddenly. How long had she been in here? She couldn't remember. Had he died since she left? 'He can't be dead. She stabbed him...I tried to stop the blood but there was so much!'

Ragnar gazed at her like a curious magpie, his head cocked.

'Why would you care if the old Seer is dead? He's bad luck, isn't he?'

'So they say,' said the bearded warrior behind Hella. 'But he's told us all a future at one time or another. Been damned useful to us too.'

'I know,' Ragnar quieted the crowd. 'I wanted to know why _she_ cares. Not _you.'_

'I don't know,' Hella said brokenly, shaking her head. 'He's...different...with me. He's...He's been...like a friend.'

'Maybe more than a friend?' Ragnar teased, eyebrow raised.

Hella didn't dare look up.

'W-Would that be so awful?' she whispered.

'No. I suppose it's none of our business anyway,' Ragnar joked, grinning at those assembled. Hella felt like her life was being flayed open like her heart. They were all staring at her, and it was because she'd grown so fond of the old Seer.

'Why are you covered in blood? Is it his?'

Hella nodded, her throat full of acid tears. Ragnar leaned forwards slowly to look her in the eye. 'Who attacked the old man? The Ancient One has been useful to me. I should like to know who tried to harm him.'

Hella felt like she'd crumple and dry like an old husk with the force of what she had to confess.

'Eerika stabbed his back with a blade. This is my fault, Lord. I took her to Uppsala, to the temple to be trained. She was gifted...she could See, like he does. We thought it would help her. I knew she didn't want to stay there. I should have brought her home.'

'So you killed her?'

'I took a log from the fire,' Hella whispered. 'She was still holding the blade...he held me against the wall,' she breathed suddenly in shock as realisation dawned. 'He must have known...he must have _known_ she'd come and...' Hella looked up suddenly. 'It would have been _me_...if he'd let me go like I asked.'

'This is...rather sweet,' Ragnar smirked. 'This child was...your daughter?'

'No,' Hella said quietly.

'But you raised her.'

'Y-Yes...'

'It seems to me,' the Queen piped up suddenly, 'That this was self defense.'

'But did she confess it?' Ragnar asked.

Hella started. 'The fisherman!' she said suddenly. 'The old fisherman who came to help us...I told him I'd killed her.'

Ragnar sat back, rubbing his face.

'Find the fisherman,' he said.

Hella waited, one of the Queen's fur's around her shoulders, her hands shaking, sick with worry as the old man was brought in. Aslaug rubbed her arms soothingly as the old man nodded to the Earl in respect.

'This woman has killed a child,' he said. 'What did you see and hear? You live next to the Ancient One.'

The old man looked down at Hella.

'She came to the door at the witching hour,' he said finally, after a long pause. 'She was bloody...as she is now. She said the Wise One was bleeding, and that she'd killed the child in self defense. It was the girl that stabbed the old man. The knife was still in her hand when I walked in.'

'That settles it, then,' Ragnar waved a hand. 'I'll hear no more. You're free to go,' Ragnar smiled. 'To your...beau.'

Hella clambered to her feet.

'T-Thank you,' she managed, pushing through the assembled crowd towards the door. She ran down the bank to the Healer's house, and arrived bent double on the stoop.

'Tell me if he's alive,' she demanded of the slave girl breathlessly.

'I-I do not know.'

'Then go inside and find out!' Hella ordered.

'Is it midday already?' the old woman emerged. 'Fine. Go inside. But I warn you, he's a moody patient.'

Hella walked into the warm dark, her heart in her throat. Out of the mist and the strange, calming scents inside, resolved the familiar white skull. He lay under a thick fur, covered from his chest to his toes. As she approached he turned his head with a wince, his black lips now smudged, half pink. They parted.

'I smell that dreadful concoction she puts on the fire!' he hissed like a wounded snake. 'And I smell...you. Hella.'

Hella crumpled, her backbone suddenly too soft to hold her up. She let her head fall onto his chest and cried.

'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-' she sobbed. 'I didn't think she'd ever go so far...I knew she was angry. I thought I could temper her, I thought my love would be enough.'

He lifted a hand with a painful wince, breathing harder, and laid his palm on her hair.

'Are you OK?' Hella finally asked. 'I thought she'd killed you.'

'Would that be so bad?' he asked, looking pained.

'Yes!' Hella said sharply, touching his mangled face. 'It would.'

His lips twitched.

'You saw it,' Hella said, wiping her eyes. 'Didn't you? You held me to the wall to protect me...you knew.'

He smiled. 'Of course I knew. On that basis...will you cook fish for me tonight? I deserve a nice.. _.juicy_...fish.'

Hella laughed wetly. 'How will I know if it's a juicy one?' she teased.

His lips tilted up again. 'Give it a little _squeeze._ '

**000**

Hella helped him onto the bed and went to fetch the fish he wanted. As she walked back through the town, people stared at her and whispered. A pair of children laughed. Another shied in fear when she came close. Hella had stopped caring. A year ago, she'd have blushed and stuttered in shame to be stared at like this, but now she felt a strange sense of pride. She did love the old man, and he deserved to be loved. It didn't matter what the townsfolk thought of it.

Hella cooked the fish for him joyfully, then drily offered to spoon-feed it to him. He gave her a cheeky smile but she could tell he was tired and hurting.

'You should rest,' she told him, preparing to get up and put the dishes to one side to be washed in the morning. Before she could move, he stopped her with a warm, smooth hand that rubbed her knee soothingly.

'I sleep easier with you near.'

'How do you know?' she teased.

'I See it will be so,' he smiled.

Hella nodded, her heart thumping as she put the dishes on the floor and settled into the bed next to him. He put a warm arm over her waist and whispered;

'This is not meaningless. Don't tell me when the dawn comes that you think it's _nothing_.'

Hella smiled into his cloth. He smelled like dry herbs and skin, a pleasant combination that she was coming to associate with him. He petted her hair idly.

'I wasn't going to.'

'Good,' he said softly, and his breathing evened out in sleep.

**000**

Hella wandered the shoreline picking up shells in her apron, then she meandered back to where he sat on the sand, his stick against his shoulder. His back had healed up, but he still had trouble with pain there. Hella handed him the first shell. He mapped the surface with his fingertips.

'Not this one,' he said lightly, adding it to the pile at his feet. Hella gave him the next and he made a small, happy noise. 'THIS one,' he nodded. 'It lived well. When you want a favourable reading...you need a small creature that lived _well.'_

Hella put her head on his shoulder fondly.

'I don't think it'll do any good,' she said quietly, watching the sun sink away. 'Trying to teach me to read the future is like teaching a pig to dance. Pointless...ugly...and ineffectual.'

'Why don't you let me decide what will be ineffectual?' he said, handing her back the two he'd chosen. He levered himself up stiffly, grunting in pain. He slid his arm around her waist.

Hella could see the dark shapes on the cliff path. She knew they came to watch. She heard them make fun in town, but the Seer not only favoured her, he happily made public his claim by walking his their hands entwined, or holding her waist. So far nobody had grown the balls to make comment, probably out of fear the old man would curse them.

'They still stare,' she said, as they approached the house.

'Let them stare,' he said moodily. 'I'm old. I don't care what they think, and I do exactly as I please. Besides. I have Earl Ragnar's ear. I could probably have them all _killed,_ ' he chuckled darkly.

'Don't be such a crotchety old goat!' Hella laughed. He bent to give her lips a kiss, maybe just to prove he could. Hella went warm with pleasure.

'I told you, the goat is a very _positive_ sign.'

Hella laughed, perching on his lap abruptly, making his smile turn very dark. He grasped her by the legs.

'Stop teasing me unless you mean to follow through,' he advised. 'Old I may be...but I am NOT made of stone.'

Hella wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt him fill his lungs on her scent.

'Maybe I don't want you to be.'

'Good,' he announced, releasing the shells and Hella assumed, any intention of using them tonight. 'If I didn't have such an ache in my back, I'd throw you on the bed!'

'But you're old,' she said, as seriously as she could. 'Far too old, surely? I wonder if you're all wind...and no thunder. In this case.'

His sockets took on that look of intention and mischief that Hella loved to bring out in him.

'You're like a fine cheese,' she added, aware she was inciting a one-man riot. 'Aged...a little mouldy...do you know that fine bit of blue on the crust that tastes like old feet-?'

He swooped down like an avenging spirit and caught her lips with uncanny accuracy. Hella stopped trying to talk. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and let him devour her bottom lip, then her ear, then her throat. Gasping at the rolling heat in her belly, she arched involuntarily as he tugged her laces loose and peeled her dress off, his hot fingers everywhere, especially in the crux between her legs where he instantly found a spot that made her gasp and cry out, his dark lips turned up into that evil little bow.

'Who is all wind...and no thunder...now?' he hissed in her ear as he played with the intimate flesh between her thighs, applying his lips to the join where neck met shoulder until Hella started to rock her hips automatically, desperate for the release he'd given her once before in a quiet corner, his gifted fingers under her dress. When she tried to get him to do it again, he resisted. Until now.

'Who is a mouldy old cheese?' he put his fingers in her mouth and made her suck them, touching her teeth and tongue, then applied the wet fingers to the flesh between her thighs, rubbing and circling with a spooky intuition, his fingertip catching a spot that made her gasp, open-mouthed and grind against him.

'Please...' she whispered as he kissed the back of her neck. 'This time...I'm ready. I want to know what it feels like.'

'Some things are a bridge that burns under your feet...valleys you can never cross again.'

'I don't care!' Hella insisted, sliding her hands under his clothes. 'Like this, where I can see you. And touch you.'

He bared his teeth. 'Have you considered that you may be entirely _mad?'_

'Does it matter? If I'm happy?'

'No,' he admitted, grasping her by her naked waist. She pulled him down, pressing her lips to his and teasing with the tip of her tongue until he moaned hungrily and let her inside.

'Off,' she tugged at his ragged clothing. 'Take it all off.'

'If a visitor comes calling looking to hear his future-'

'I already know his future. It's a broken skull,' Hella promised darkly.

Finally he relented, his cloth a puddle on the floor, and Hella saw the extent of the damage. His back was scarred where two huge pieces of skin had been ripped away, his thighs sliced by a blade too. But she'd been right. His face was at odds with the rest of him. They'd made him to be ugly, but he wasn't. Not to her. Not anymore.

His warm hands tracked pleasure all over her skin and Hella wrapped both her legs around him eagerly.

'I don't want to hurt you-'

'Maybe I should listen to you for once, Wise One,' she teased breathlessly.

'Yes. You should.'

'Or maybe you should listen to me. I'm ready. Please.'

He smiled, looking bemused. Then he dropped his lips to her and took her mouth with more urgency, his hardness pressing against her until he finally took her hip in one hand and tilted her just so. Hella moaned in surprise as he pushed inside, her whole body suddenly tensing in shock as it struggled to work out whether it hurt more than it felt good. She made a little noise of discomfort as he repeated the process, this time much more deeply, until there wasn't a space left inside her he hadn't touched. His fingers in her hair distracted her, comforted her. His breath hot on her face, she felt herself clench around him. Then the stinging pain and uncomfortable stretching feeling subsided under pleasure and she adjusted her legs around him, stroking his skull.

Slowly he started to move. His stained lips open, his breath hot in her hair, he licked a trail suddenly up her throat and bit her neck until she cried out, clenching tightly like his hand in her hair. It had never occurred to her that men might make noises too, but his throat worked under her fingers and he made the most delicious hungry little sounds in her ear, nibbling at her earlobe to get her to tighten up and stroking her thighs when he wanted her to relax.

Hella heard herself say something, something encouraging as he became more and more erratic. As she tipped over the edge of glorious, golden pleasure around him, he devoured her mouth like she was food and he was starving, and grunted his release into her hair, gripping her with so much strength that she was reminded again, he was much more than he appeared.

Hella lay on one side, her leg still draped over him, his fingers brushing up and down her waist. She smiled.

'I still don't know your name,' she touched his lips with her fingertips.

'Inghard,' he breathed. They went silent.

'Are you in any pain?' he asked eventually, as the fire crackled.

'I think I'll mend.'

'You will. Maybe then...we can try this again.'

Suddenly, the heavy door creaked open. Inghard sighed, his lips twisting into a sour expression as he covered their bare bodies with his new bear skin.

'What do you want?' he asked the visitor coolly. 'Can't you leave me to the same pleasures you yourself enjoy. Regularly,' he added, toothily. 'With a man not your husband.'

Aslaug opened and closed her mouth, her gaze going up and down the bed where Hella lay against his chest, blushing but curiously unashamed, since it was only the Queen, and Hella felt certain she'd already figured this out anyway. Aslaug turned on her heel with a muttered apology and left.

Inghard chuckled softly, his lips a satisfied smirk.

'About time they learned to take a hint,' he grouched, though Hella felt it was largely good natured, this time.

'If we do this more often, maybe they'll learn to knock,' Hella suggested.

He huffed a tired sigh. 'I would have better luck training a _dog_ than these people.'

Hella ran her fingertips over the tattoo on his chest. It was a raven, wings spread to each shoulder. He rose and fell with his breaths.

'What I did to her...' Hella whispered. 'I'll never forgive myself.'

'Time heals most wounds,' he advised. 'And for those that time cannot heal there are other...inevitable...distractions that lessen the sting of the past.'

Hella wondered if he meant children.

'Tell me my future,' she whispered to him fondly.

He smirked, his teeth so white behind his black lips.

'No,' he said, grinning. 'For once I don't want to know it. I don't even want to know my own. I fought the Gods to tell my own fortune, you have no idea how hard I fought. But now I don't care.'

'Why?' Hella whispered.

'When this moment is so pretty, who would want to be distracted by the future?'

'Wise words,' she teased.

'Do not sound so surprised,' he smirked. 'I do have my moments.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - Wee notes...Who knows if the Vikings knew about blue cheese? Probably not, but it's in there because it made me smile to think of it. The reason I painted Inghard as being younger is that when I watched the series I realised there was a big difference between the apparent age of his face, and the rest of him. Look at his hands ;) He actually looks about 50! Below the chin, at any rate.
> 
> There's no mention of his being mutilated by his order in the series, but I liked that idea because his face does closely resemble scar tissue and I gave him a family because he's supposed to be a wise man, and wise men would have to know about ALL aspects of life, or how could they be wise enough to counsel others?
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Let me know if you did. :)


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